


crest of the beast

by Madfalldyn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Marianne gets horny but blames her Crest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madfalldyn/pseuds/Madfalldyn
Summary: If you were to ask those who live, work, and study in the illustrious halls of the Garreg Mach Monastery about Crests, the answers you would receive would, mostly, ring positive. A young noble might claim they serve as the Goddess' blessing to the nobility. A professor might launch into a nearly fanatical rant about the wonders of Crests, and the extent of his research. And of course, many will regale you of mythical exploits the pairing of Crest and Relic allowed heroes both current and past to achieve.Some, however, might disagree. A young student, with a uniquely hurried air about her that seems to match her bizarrely white hair might scoff at the question, before informing you she simply does not have the time for such a foolish question. A silver-tongued noble's smile might falter, just before he  tells you they're far more trouble than they're worth. And, lastly, a quiet noble that looks as though she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years would make her excuses, dodging the question and any attempt at communication.





	crest of the beast

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for like a month lmao I'm tired here it is

If you were to ask those who live, work, and study in the illustrious halls of the Garreg Mach Monastery about Crests, the answers you would receive would, mostly, ring positive. A young noble might claim they serve as the Goddess' blessing to the nobility. A professor might launch into a nearly fanatical rant about the wonders of Crests, and the extent of his research. And of course, many will regale you of mythical exploits the pairing of Crest and Relic allowed heroes both current and past to achieve. 

Some, however, might disagree. A young student, with a uniquely hurried air about her that seems to match her bizarrely white hair might scoff at the question, before informing you she simply does not have the time for such a foolish question. A silver-tongued noble's smile might falter, just before he tells you they're far more trouble than they're worth. And, lastly, a quiet noble that looks as though she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years would make her excuses, dodging the question and any attempt at communication.

~X~

Marianne wanted to be alone. After the misfortune that befell her parents, mysterious as their disappearance was, she has little interest in getting close to other people. The monastery is, naturally, the last place she’d want to go. A church and school combined? Bustling with countless people, of all backgrounds? It is not where an unfortunate soul such as herself belongs. No, Marianne would prefer that the Goddess simply whisk her away, somewhere where her misfortune cannot affect anyone else. If that isn’t possible, then at the very least she would prefer to be somewhere with less people.

It’s not that she hates others, not at all. But… she is dangerous. Her mother told her as much, long ago. Her father, too. They warned her of her blood, the crest she bore, the curse attached to it… and her adoptive father did nothing but reassure her that the curse was indeed real. That she should use great caution, lest the truth of her crest be discovered. It did not matter how often she protested, or how she tried to convince him that perhaps being sent to the monastery was not the best idea. He was set in his decision.

At first, she wondered if he was tired of her. She did little else but mope about the Edmund estate, after he had adopted her. Perhaps the tenuous tie of responsibility that led him to adopt her after the disappearance of her parents was not strong enough, and he simply wanted rid of her. But, returning to her quarters one afternoon, after spending some time in the estate’s gardens, she overheard him, speaking to one of his servants.

“-long will the girl be staying here, milord?” the servant asked. “You’ve surely heard the rumors surrounding her. Many of the staff have their fair share of mutterings on the subject.”

“Don’t fret, I have my plans for her,” Margrave Edmund responded, and Marianne could envision the smile on his face all too well. “Whether the rumors of her ‘curse’ hold any truth or not, she is quite useful. A Crest is a Crest, after all, and a noble daughter bearing a crest, adopted or no, could greatly further my influence.”

“You intend to marry her off, then?” the servant pressed. “I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have with that, she is… far from pleasant company.”

“An arranged marriage would likely end disastrously, yes. But… Garreg Mach is always an option,” he explained. “Classroom romance, and all that. Many noble sons attend the Officer’s Academy, and it is likely she could woo a suitable husband of noble birth there, while also being out of our hair,”

“You truly are wise, milord,” the servant said. “The Alliance is blessed with your counsel and wisdom,”

“Please, praise from a servant means little. Still, I do appreciate it. Do not yet spread this news, I’ll speak to the young lady myself.”

Sensing that the servant was being dismissed, Marianne moved on, quickly but quietly. She kept her composure until she returned to her room. Even then, tears fell silently. It wasn’t as if she  _ liked _ her time at the Edmund estate, but traveling so far, to a place so full of people… it did not seem wise. Her parents had warned her, Margave Edmund had warned her, so why would he send her to such a dangerous place? One where her Crest would almost certainly be called into question. For a good marriage? It seemed so… so selfish!

Even now, as she waits for classes to begin in earnest, Marianne can’t quite wrap her head around his decision. How can putting so many people in danger be justified by such selfish aims? Perhaps Margrave Edmund did not believe in her curse, or in the misfortune that follows her… but if that was the case, why would he tell her it was true? And tell her to be careful? It was far too confusing, and Marianne would prefer not to think of it.

Her prayers to the Goddess become far more frequent. At the very least, the Monastery’s cathedral is a wonderful place for such an activity. The stables have such lovely, kind horses, and the gardens are often filled with birds, but… Marianne finds it difficult to relax. Her parents’ warnings buzz in her head, just as Margrave’s do. Her Crest is cursed, and none can know of it. She should do her best to avoid leaving Garreg Mach. 

And, finally… she should be especially careful at night.

~X~

Her parents told her years ago that she was cursed. That her father was cursed, as well. Cursed by their ancestry, by a Crest that had followed their family for ages. No matter what they did, no one in her ancestry could dispel the misfortune that clung to them, to those they spend time with. Marianne didn’t want to curse her classmates. And she didn’t want the worst to come to pass, not in a place like this. After several months at the monastery, begrudgingly growing closer to her professor and classmates, her fear has only grown worse.

After all, the greatest rumors state that those bearing her crest may turn into fearsome beasts in the night. They prey on the innocent, tearing them to shreds easily and feasting upon their remains. She doesn’t believe anything like that has happened to her. At least, not yet. She does her best to avoid sleeping, often staying up late into the night, wrestling against her thoughts. Against her worry. If she were to change at the Edmund estate, many servants would die. Innocent people, just doing their job. And the Monastery is even worse!

So many students, faculty, merchants… people simply living their lives. And now, after having grown closer to students like Hilda, and Claude, and to Byleth... If she were to lose herself, and transform here… it would be a horrible tragedy. Marianne has little to no idea what exactly turning into a beast would entail, but it sounds altogether unpleasant. For her, and for any who happen to be nearby. Each night, she locks her door tightly, and does her best to resist sleeping for as long as possible. The dark circles persisting beneath her eyes show her resolve, though none know exactly why she sleeps so little.

Some nights, however, are harder than others. Some nights, she cannot lie still. Her body grows hot, starting just below her abdomen, and spreading outwards to the rest of her body. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of, how hard she prays, she grows hotter, and hotter. She feels a bizarre drive, almost a hunger, but not from her stomach. Like she wants something, desperately, but isn’t sure what. Nothing helps. Nothing will drive it away, even if she buries her face in her pillow, digging her nails into her blankets, it persists. She doesn’t dare leave her room in such a state, but she wonders if even a cool bath would calm this feeling. Tonight, unfortunately, seems to be another of those nights.

She knows it is her Crest. Her cursed blood, boiling. Any moment, she could begin her transformation. So she tosses, and turns, and tries to think of anything else. Anything at all! Some thoughts, however, only serve to make this feeling worse. If she thinks of Hilda, and the two of them enjoying tea together, her mind seems to focus on her easy smile, the way she plays with her hair as she speaks, prattling on about some new accessory she wants Marianne to try, or the latest letter from her brother, that cursed heat only surges higher.

She shifts gears, thinking of Claude’s easy smile as he tries to get closer to her, trying to determine what it is that makes her shy away. Like a curious cat, Claude doesn’t know, or seem to care, when he should keep his nose out of someone else’s business. Still, he has such a charm to him…. Marianne appreciates talking to him, but for some reason she feels traces of this building pressure even when talking to him during the day. Her curse should only take hold at night, and she cannot understand such strange development… but it often leads to her rushing away from Claude, despite being somewhat fond of the curious noble.

Even thinking of him now, the heat she feels rises once more. At this rate, she’s not going to be sleeping at all tonight! Again, she lets her mind wander. Now, it is Byleth’s face which enters her thoughts. Her professor is usually a calming presence, especially on the battlefield. He serves to guide and inspire, and no matter the danger his students are in, none have been lost under his supervision. In the classroom, he is stoic and unflappable, despite Claude’s best efforts. When teaching one on one, he is kind, and knowledgeable. Eager to heap praise on his students for a job well done…

Praise which makes Marianne push herself to earn more. She wonders, if he wouldn’t be able to help her with this strange feeling that always threatens to overtake her. He has an almost otherworldly sense of wisdom, despite claiming to have little memory of his time as a wandering mercenary. Perhaps he has seen something like this in the past… but she would never have the courage to ask. Especially when, at times, his presence is not calming in the slightest. When they have tea together, just the two of them, and he’s just across the table from her… as he watches her, and speaks to her, she feels this same pressure then, as well. It’s less severe, but still there. She finds herself wishing he were here now.

Only for a moment, however. It would be dangerous, and he is the last person she wishes to hurt. Still, she is confident that even if his presence made her feel even worse, that he’d know some way of fixing it. Of calming her down, so that she could sleep. Perhaps he would even stand watch over her… No! That would be far too much to ask, especially of some one so busy. No, it would be best if she sticks to herself, as always. She is left with no other option, but to toss and turn, and wait it out. Eventually, the heat fades, though by then the dark sky has started lightening already. It is nearly morning. Marianne sighs, another night lost to her curse.

~X~

It isn't until years later that Marianne begins to think perhaps there is more to this than her curse. After facing off against Maurice himself, and learning the truth of her heritage, The truth freed her from her burden, making her feel human for the first time in years. Always, her life had been shackled to the curse of her blood. Always, she had worried if she would turn into a monster, devouring friends and allies, becoming yet another monster to be put down. But now, she felt so light. As if nothing could drag her back to where she was. 

But, that heat never stopped. At night, it would surge back. During time with some of her friends, her former professor, it was there. At night on her own, she no longer worried about shifting shape, but… she still tosses and turns. She still cannot sleep. But if it is not her curse, what is it? What could be causing such bizarre feelings?

It isn’t until she overhears something she shouldn’t that she begins to put the pieces together. A certain former professor, who did not start out working with her class, is known for her… brazen behavior. After a few too many drinks, and a less than ideal night, she is left reeling, hardly coherent as she vents to Hanneman.

“It’s just ridiculous! I’m a beautiful young woman, still in her prime!” she complains, “How could he simply excuse himself like that?”

“Manuela, I must say your claim is perhaps a bit exaggerated,” Hanneman answers, knowing she would prefer silence. “Besides, is it not within a young man’s right to decline any invitation he wishes?”

“Sure, sure, but what young man would say no to an enchanting night, alone, in the room of a former diva…” Maneula muses.

“Did he perhaps see the state of your quarters? To be frank, they are not exactly welcoming,” Hanneman suggests, shaking his head.

“Well, regardless of  _ why _ , he insured that I had quite the restless night. The magic of our date had me in quite the mood, I must admit. I was perfectly ready, and I-”

“Manuela,  _ please _ spare me the details of your arousal…” Hanneman cuts her off.

“Oh fine, I was  _ horny _ , tossing and turning, I absolutely could not calm down. And now here I am, hours later, sleep deprived, and having to deal with my absolute  _ favorite _ colleague,” Manuela continues, cutting many of the details she had planned for Hanneman’s sake. Still, what Marianne heard was enough to elicit a soft gasp. 

“That is still far more detail than I would have liked, Manuela. Perhaps if you took more care in the state of your quarters…” the former noble begins, and Marianne quietly slips away, towards her room. 

Their conversation gives her a lot to consider. If that is how Manuela felt during such a… state, then it wouldn’t be unreasonable for Marianne’s own struggles to be similar. That is easier, of course, than fighting against some cursed Crest, but it comes with its own problems. If arousal is truly the culprit, Marianne has to face how thinking of her friends affects those feelings. And when it occurs, even during the daylight. The young woman knows, upon reaching her room, that tonight will likely be another sleepless night. 


End file.
